Chapter 19 #3
“And so you should be,” Tom told him severely.
“Why would you lie to me, Kit? Or alternatively, why wouldn’t you escort me all the way outside and into a Hackney?
Did you think I wouldn’t ask Evans to repeat Finch’s message once I got downstairs?
Especially with the way you behaved when you heard the news. ”
He hadn’t missed Christopher’s subterfuge after all, then. I exchanged a look with Crispin, who made a face.
“You have a job to do,” Christopher said, although he did look at least a bit guilty. “I ought to have realized that you’d double-check with Evans, I suppose. But I didn’t want you to tell us we couldn’t come with you. If Laetitia is here, Crispin deserves a chance to confront her.”
Tom glanced at Crispin for a moment before returning his attention to Christopher. “I don’t disagree, Kit. But you could have asked instead of assuming.”
Christopher made a face, but he wasn’t cowed enough not to push for what he wanted. “Will you allow us to go upstairs with you, then?”
“I should tell you no,” Tom said. “You shouldn’t get a reward for lying to me, should you?”
Christopher winced, and Tom continued, “In fact, I’m tempted to keep you and Philippa down here, and only take His Grace up with me.”
He looked at Crispin, who shrugged.
That would be disappointing—if Laetitia was here, I wanted to see her, too—but I admitted, “That would be fair.”
Tom’s brows arched. So did Crispin’s solitary one. “I’m surprised at you, Darling.”
“So am I,” Tom said. “I would have thought you’d be first in line to eviscerate Lady Laetitia.”
“Oh, I’d like to be. However, I do realize that I have no rights here. If you only wanted to take Crispin up with you, we’d understand. Wouldn’t we, Kit?”
Christopher grimaced, but nodded. “We wouldn’t like it,” he said, “but we’d understand.”
“That’s good,” Tom told him, which sounded very much like we’d be asked to stay behind. I made a face, and so did Christopher. Tom smirked. “Come along, then.”
We both perked up. “All of us?” Christopher asked eagerly.
Tom nodded. “Yes, Kit. All of you. I don’t fancy my chances if I keep Pippa away from this confrontation.”
No, I didn’t, either. I’d understand, like I’d said, but I wouldn’t be happy about it, and I wouldn’t let him forget it in a hurry, either. And he could absolutely forget about getting my blessing to court Christopher, if he ever decided he wanted it.
But it appeared that such wouldn’t be a problem. Tom made his way toward the lift and we fell in behind, like a row of ducklings. “Fourth floor,” he told the lift operator, a young boy of fifteen or so, who jumped to obey.
“Right you are, guv.”
We stood in silence for the time it took us to ride to the top floor, since the boy rode up with us and I didn’t want him to hear what we said.
If Laetitia was here, hiding out and plotting with Wolfgang, and the staff didn’t already know it, there was no reason to clue them in.
There’d be time enough for that later, if it indeed was she and that was what she had been doing.
Once we were out of the lift and it was on its way down again, and we stood in the rarified air of the hotel hallway, I asked, “Don’t keep us in suspense any longer, Tom. You must have spoken to someone while you waited for us to arrive. Who are we here to see? It’s Laetitia, isn’t it?”
“It can’t be Leonid Novikov,” Christopher added. “Not only is he dead, but he wouldn’t have been able to afford to stay here.”
“Nor could Wolfgang,” I added, “or Finch wouldn’t currently be at the Rowton House in Whitechapel, going through his belongings.”
Tom nodded. “No, the guest is a woman. She arrived five days ago, and is registered under the name Mrs. Grace Henry—”
He stopped when Crispin twitched violently enough that it was for all practical purposes a flinch. “Problem, Your Grace?”
“Aside from the fact that Laetitia drove from Dorset to London five days ago? Grace is her middle name. And Henry—”
—was his.
“I suppose you asked them to describe the lady?” I asked Tom.
He nodded. “The concierge looked at me as if I were mad. Apparently she hasn’t left her rooms since Wednesday.
Although he did describe Natterdorff quite thoroughly.
And not just the hair and face and scar—things he could have gotten from the photograph in the newspaper—but the height and the greatcoat and the German accent. ”
“Not much doubt that it was Wolfgang, then?”
“None at all, I’d say,” Tom said grimly.
“He’s been here twice. Once on Wednesday evening, after the lady checked in, and once yesterday afternoon.
Meanwhile, someone who matched Leonid Novikov’s description dropped off a note for Mrs. Henry on Thursday and on Friday.
Updates, I would guess. They must have kept an eye on you—” This was addressed to Crispin, “—to see how you decided to handle the ransom note.”
“Novikov was following us to see whether I went to the bank and got the ransom,” Crispin translated. “That morning when Philippa ran into him outside Smythson, that’s what he was doing. And then he reported back to Wolfie, and Wolfie reported back to Laetitia.”
“If it is Laetitia,” Tom said. “We don’t know that yet.”
“Then let’s find out,” I told him, and gestured to the hallway in front of us. “You know the room number, I suppose?”
Tom nodded, and we headed down the hall until he stopped in front of a door. “This should be it.”
“How do you want to do this?”
I made certain to keep my voice low so as not to spook the woman inside, whether she was Laetitia or someone else. “Do you knock and tell her you’re the police? Do I knock and say I’m housekeeping? Or does Crispin knock and coo at her until she opens the door?”
Crispin sent me a foul look. “I would prefer not. Gardiner—”
He turned to Tom for support.
“No,” Tom told him. “Not you. I think we’ll go with Philippa’s idea.”
“They were all my ideas.”
Tom rolled his eyes and knocked on the door. Then he pointed at me. I rolled mine right back, but raised my voice. “Mrs. Henry? Housekeeping.”
There was a rustling inside, and then the shuffle of footsteps on the other side of the door. “I don’t need housekeeping,” a voice said.
I glanced at Crispin. So did Christopher and Tom. I was fairly certain whose voice it was, but Crispin knew her a lot better than I did, and it was just as well to be certain.
He closed his eyes for a second and blew out a breath before he nodded.
Tom nodded back, before he faced the door. “Lady Laetitia Marsden? This is Detective-Sergeant Thomas Gardiner with Scotland Yard. Open the door.”